


Hissy

by Gemi



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Genre: AU, M/M, blacksmith!Raph, fairies on fire, potion brewer!Don, tcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/pseuds/Gemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting hold of fire fey was usually a simple business; apparently not tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hissy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my friend named Skandron, ages ago.  
> Momorawrr drew fanart! Link, the middle picture; http://momorawrr.deviantart.com/art/RD-370407216
> 
> \--

Donatello found fey interesting.  
  
They came in warm colors, yellow and red and orange.  
Glowing spots, like sparks that fell from a fire and lived instead of dying. They spat fire, too, which added to the illusion.  
  
They were also a very good ingredient for certain potions.  
  
Donatello eyed them from his spot.  
He was laying on a favorite branch of his, and he was trying to find the good ones to snatch.  
The fey were beautiful to look at, but they had claws and fangs and, of course, the ability to spit fire.  
One should not disturb such a swarm without a good reason.  
  
Or, at the very least, without a good plan.  
  
Donatello, however, was an experienced fey snatcher.  
  
He smiled as he decided which ones to catch.  
Their glow were not quite as strong, which meant they were slow.  
Which meant they were easy to catch.  
He began to whisper the first spell, slowly opening the bottle which he planned to stuff them in.  
It was large, and he had to hold it with both hands to avoid dropping it.  
  
And just as he had finished the spell, the fey began to slow down in their movements, their loud chatter growing duller; that was when his plan to acquire the important ingredients shattered.  
  
Because suddenly one turtle rushed in, snatching the fey with his bare hands.  
  
Donatello was in shock at first; he simply stared, gaping at the bold move.  
But then the fey shook off the spell, and they retaliated with a force of thousand.  
  
He winced as he saw them spitting, clawing and biting the turtle.  
  
He hesitated; surely the other male was too stupid to deserve the help, but in the end he cursed and dropped from his branch.  
He wasn't like his mentor, eager to leave idiots to themselves.  
  
Donatello almost regretted it when half of the swarm turned his way, fire falling from the fanged mouths.  
  
He yelled out the spells, frantic, freezing fire in the air and on himself and the idiot; but the fey still had claws and teeth and the  _idiot was still grabbing them what the-_  and Donatello grabbed the larger turtle's arm.  
  
"Come," he snapped, and the turtle struggled at first, but Donatello was taller and knew how to yank someone out of the way.  
He glanced down, quick, brief, at the pouch where the male had stuffed the fey. It glowed, and had to be charmed to not burst into fire.  
  
After that, they ran.  
  
The swarm only stopped chasing them once they reached the stream.  
They splashed over it, struggling past it. It was only barely not a river, and it made them more than a little wet.  
  
And then they reached the other side, and Donatello sat down and decided to catch his breath before he died from lack of it.  
  
"Damn it," the turtle next to him panted, "I only got ten of them."  
  
Donatello punched his arm.  
  
"What the fuck!" the turtle snarled, immediately leaning away from Donatello, "What's that for!?"  
  
"You nearly got us killed," Donatello snapped. Tried to, anyway, because he was still gasping for life-saving oxygen.  
  
The other turtle snorted. Donatello punched him again.  
  
"Stop it," the male said, growling and trying to punch back. Donatello was slender and flexible, however, and managed to clumsily avoid it. "How could those tiny shits even do that, anyway?"  
  
"Did you notice that they spat fire?" Donatello said, sarcasm dripping from the words. "Or those wonderful bite marks you carry now? What is  _wrong_  with you, who would just- why? Why would you be such an idiot to simply rush in like that?"  
  
"I ain't an idiot," the turtle grumbled, even as he checked his arms and legs for the bite marks.  
Donatello noticed they weren't quite as visible as his own; the other turtle's skin was much darker, neatly blending in with the dark forest around them.  
Donatello's own skin was of the lighter variant, the moon happily outlining it.  
  
He frowned at the turtle.  
  
"Huh," the turtle said. Grinned, far too big and gold eyes smug with satisfaction, "Still worth it, though."  
  
Donatello wanted to punch him again, but he was too tired.  
He swatted weakly at him, instead, before letting his body relax and rest by laying down on the rather muddy grass.  
  
"I don't like you," he gasped. Closed his eyes and tried to focus on calming down.  
  
"Yeah, I like ya loads too," the turtle said.  
Donatello opened one eye to watch him lay down too, and then Donatello weakly swatted away a too close, dark hand that nearly touched him.  
  
The turtle chuckled.  
  
They lay in silence for a while, only the sound of their own heavy breaths filling the silence.  
Finally, Donatello fought his way back up into a sitting position.  
  
"Lucky for you that we got to the stream," he said after a moment.  
  
"Yeah?" the other turtle asked. Sat up too, opening his bag. "What the fuck? They're dead!"  
  
"No," Donatello said. Reached out and took the bag from the surprised male, "We ran across the stream."  
  
"So?" the turtle scowled, gold eyes narrowing into a glare as he tried to get the bag back.  
Donatello managed to keep him at bay, putting a foot on his chest to keep him away.  
He picked up one of the fey, putting the bag down beside him.  
  
Its glow was very dull; almost grey, and it was limp in his hands.  
He smiled, poking it. The fey twitched in return.  
  
"It was too close to the water," he explained. Gestured vaguely towards the still rather wet bag. "It knocks them out."  
  
"Oh," the turtle said. "Yeah, okay, give it back."  
  
Donatello frowned and pushed him further away with his foot, muscles straining as the idiot fought it.  
He was strong, and Donatello wasn't quite sure if he disliked it or not.  
  
"No," he said. "You interrupted me when I was going to catch them, almost killed us both and would have set the forest on fire if I didn't know freezing spells."  
  
"Yeah, an' I didn't," the turtle said. Smacked away Donatello's foot, which made Donatello wince. "I need them, so stop playing around!"  
  
"I need them too," Donatello snapped and pretended he wasn't whining, "I have a customer who ordered five potions that need fey wings and bones and-"  
  
"Ya- you're gonna  _kill_  them!?" the turtle burst out.  
  
"In a pain-free way, yes," Donatello said.  
  
He couldn't lie about feeling guilty about it, however.  
His mentor often told him he was too sappy and soft for being a brewer.  
  
"I need them to pay my rent and food. What do  _you_  need them for?"  
  
The turtle scowled at him, fingers twitching.  
  
"Ain't none of your problem," he growled.  
  
"It is," Donatello insisted. Clumsily crawled away from the annoyed turtle, slipping the fey back into the bag he now clutched close. "Why don't you give me a good reason to starve?"  
  
"It's- fuck you," the male snapped.  
  
"Fuck  _you_ ," Donatello said, before his eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.  
  
The other turtle started laughing.  
  
"What?" Donatello asked, embarrassed and surprised.  
  
"Ya don't curse much, do ya?" the turtle asked, grinning and gold eyes glimmering in the pale moonlight. "Should've seen your face."  
  
"Cursing is for- it's not for me," Donatello said and crossed his arms and ignored his burning cheeks.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, just for thugs," the turtle said and snorted, his tone growing more somber. "Which is why I need them. Luck an' that shit."  
  
Donatello blinked.  
  
It was a common belief that fey brought luck to their owner; Donatello wasn't quite sure why or even where that belief came from.  
Even so, fey were fierce enough to ward off most luck-seeking hunters.  
  
Except the idiotic ones.  
  
"It's a myth," Donatello said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's a myth," he repeated. Sighed and shifted, tried to get comfortable.  
He probably had mud and grass all over by now, and he frowned. "Not true. They bring more misfortune than luck."  
  
"Ya serious?" the turtle asked, disbelief and disappointment. "Yeah, you probably are. Damn brewer."  
  
Donatello glared at him.  
  
"I apologize for telling you the facts," he said, "But they are true. What makes you so desperate for some luck that you have to go and get bitten?" He frowned once more. "And why in the world would you need more than  _ten_  of them?"  
  
The turtle frowned and shrugged and didn't look at Donatello.  
  
"Ya know," he said, clearly embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck, "None of your business."  
  
Donatello frowned and raised a brow.  
  
"... I just want someones' attention, alright?" the turtle snapped finally. "Too fucking dumb to talk to hi-her myself, so I thought maybe those things would've given me luck an'... yeah."  
  
"... you want them to impress a girl?" Donatello asked blankly.  
  
He was vaguely disappointed.  
The turtle was handsome- at least in the darkness of the forest -and interesting enough to speak with for more than ten seconds.  
And Donatello had lost a chance he didn't even know he had.  
  
He sighed and got up.  
  
"Sorry," he said. "I think I need the food and rent more." He felt bad even as he said it, however, and he closed the bag. "Maybe you should try to simply ask her," he suggested, and he felt awkward. "Can't be worse than having fire spat at you."  
  
The turtle grumbled and muttered something that sounded like a curse.  
  
Donatello sighed. Lingered, before he gave up and walked back to the village, leaving the sulking stranger behind.  
  
  
~  
  
  
The fey wings spat sparks as he grounded them to fine powder.  
  
He was very glad he wore the gloves; they were spelled to protect against heat and sparks, and it saved him the burns he would no doubt gain if he hadn't worn them.  
Donatello grimaced.  
The scent, however, was not as easily spelled off. Burnt flesh and something else that smelled foul filled his nostrils, and he only barely managed to not sneeze.  
  
Sneezing into powder- which could melt steel if used properly -honestly didn't seem like a good idea.  
  
But soon, Donatello had to sneeze. He carefully put down the pestle by the side of the mortar.  
And then, as fast as he possibly could, he whirled around and sneezed into his hands.  
  
"That's nasty."  
  
Donatello blinked. Sniffled and dropped his hands.  
He met golden eyes and dark skin, and he stared dumbly for a moment.  
  
"You," he finally got out. Almost pointed at the turtle, but then he noticed the snot on the leather gloves.  
He winced and grimaced, quickly tugging them off.  
The turtle, however, had already seen the mess.  
  
He grimaced too.  
  
"Yeah, that's  _real_  nasty," the turtle said. _Raphael_ said.  
  
Donatello knew whom Raphael was; he had never spoken to him, but he knew he was one of the so called 'thugs' in the village.  
He usually hung around the shops, worked shifts at the black smith.  
It had been too dark to recognize the male last night; but the voice was unmistakable.  
  
"Thank you," Donatello said, trying to be sarcastic but failing miserably. Instead he sounded mostly embarrassed. "And why are you here?" He frowned at the turtle, throwing the gloves somewhere to the side. "Need a love potion? Those are also a myth."  
  
"Oh, you're funny," Raphael growled, crossing his muscular arms.  
Donatello tried to not stare. He thought he might have failed a little, because Raphael  _stared back_.  
"No, I ain't here for a fucking love potion. She got a boyfriend, anyway." Pause.  
  
Donatello tried to not feel glee. Suddenly, that lost chance didn't seem so lost.  
  
"Was he an idiot too, perhaps?" he asked instead, but the way Raphael smiled, just a little, told Donatello enough.  
He wasn't quite able to hide his glee, it seemed. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to avoid eye-contact.  
  
"Ya bet he is," Raphael said. "Though that ain't the reason I'm here now."  
  
Donatello blinked. Frowned, utterly confused.  
  
"Why  _are_  you here?"  
  
"Been 'bout a week since we last spoke."  
  
"Yes?" Donatello said. Tilted his head, raised a brow. "Did you miss me?"  
  
"I did, yeah."  
  
Donatello blinked again. And before he could stop it, he blushed.  
A rather furious blush. His face felt as if it was burning up.  
Donatello wasn't exactly used to these kind of things.  
  
Raphael smirked.  
  
"Thought 'bout it," he drawled. Casually got closer. "Decided I ain't into wimpy princesses."  
  
"Yeah?" Donatello said. Tried to, though it came out more strangled than anything else, Raphael suddenly standing far too close to help Donatello's nerves.  
  
"Yeah," Raphael nodded. He lifted one of his dark hands, and Donatello vaguely noticed that it was shaking badly.  
Raphael placed it on the back of Donatello's neck. "I'm thinking I'm more into asshole brewers. Ya... ya up for it?"  
  
Donatello fiddled nervously with his sleeves. Felt silly and shy and rather brainless, too focused on the warm hand pressed against his skin.  
  
"... yes," he finally mumbled. Felt the hand squeeze, and he tried to glare.  
  
The smile ruined it. It felt as if his face would split in two thanks to the way he couldn't stop it, all wide and too happy and silly.  
In a futile attempt to gain back the pride he had lost, he tried to protest.  
  
"Although I  _must_  protest on the asshole comment."  
  
"Sure, ya do that," Raphael said.  
  
Donatello was pretty sure the blacksmith wasn't listening, though, since he dove in for a kiss a mere second later.  
  
Donatello was new to the art of kissing.  
But after some- quite a lot, actually -nose bumping he thought he had it somewhat figured out.  
  
Although he had to punch Raphael twice to make him stop laughing.


End file.
